


Fate's Curse

by fuckyeahcaptainpan (ChipmunkCharles)



Series: Looking for a Soulmate [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Self-Harm, soulmates!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipmunkCharles/pseuds/fuckyeahcaptainpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm counting, I'm counting on you now.</p><p> </p><p>  <sub><b>Previously named:</b> Counting on Hearts <b>and</b> Love Song Requim</sub></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of the Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m counting on hearts like yours to keep me burning  
> To keep me up ‘til two in the morning

_Felix_  and  _Peter_ , two names burned in red on pale flesh hidden behind a leather jacket. They were the names of Killian Jones’ soul mates, the boys he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

Killian had always thought himself to be a straight man no matter what the names on his inner wrist told him. But that night when two boys entered the pub, one clad in green the other in brown, his mind began to change.

He watched the boys as they sat at a table across from his place at the bar. The one in green was obviously the leader of the pair, with the way his brows would raise as if to tempt those in front of him and the smirk that danced on his lips every second. The one dressed in brown was a follower of the boy in green. Killian could see by how he hung onto every word the boy spoke, his long blonde hair falling into his eyes with every laugh and every nod of his head.

The boy in green turned away from the boy in brown and for a moment his eyes locked with Killian’s. The man couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the quick connection. His eyes were the color of emeralds surrounded by long, dark lashes making the boy appear youthful and wicked.

The boy grinned at the man gesturing for him to sit with them. Killian nodded his heart pounding in his chest—he was nervous.

Killian never discovered the boys’ names—not when they stayed at the bar ‘til 2am, not when they hitched a taxi to his place, and not when they all fell into his black, silk sheets wasting the rest of the night away.

But Killian did notice in the aftermath of the night’s pleasures two names on each boy’s wrist. The recognition of the placing of letters making his eyes widen; one name from each wrist matching up to a name on his own. The second name spelled with seven petty, little letters creating a name he’s known all his life—

 **K i l l i a n**. 


	2. Counting on Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m counting on hearts like yours to help remind me  
> Keep ignoring the white noise behind me

_Felix_ and  _Peter_ , two names Killian Jones shouts to the world each night when he goes to bed. They are his soul mates, two boys he’s meant to spend the rest of his life with.

On occasion he prefers one more than the other. Felix he prefers on the down days when he’s tired and sore from his job. Peter he prefers on the slow days when the world lacks life and adventure. But together the boys are a wave of passion crashing on the shore with every touch, every kiss, and every movement under the silk sheets.

Sometimes though Killian wished he had only one soul mate in this world, because at night when he’s still awake and they’re asleep he hears them. They whisper words in their deep slumber that they’ve never spoken to him—only each other. They murmur of their past and their love for one another which has glowed brightly since the days they wrestled in sandboxes.

It’s at these moments in the middle of the night that Killian steps out onto the apartment balcony. It’s at these moments he contemplates his life. He thinks of his past when he was alone, he thinks of his present with Felix and Peter, but most of all he thinks of his future. And when the thoughts drift to his two lovers leaving him behind in their passionate wake, he brings a metal flask to his lips.

The burning sensation numbs the feeling of loneliness, especially when he glances behind him and stares at the boys’ tangled forms with his empty pillow to their left.

                                                                                                                                                           Another sip.

Killian runs his calloused fingers through his black locks, considering for just a moment if he should leave—just pack his things and go. He’d leave a note of course explaining his departure, and maybe they will go searching for him for a few hours, a day, or even possibly a month, but eventually they will see what he does. They will see that they are better on their own without their third soul mate.

                                         Another sip.

Killian can hear them when they’re alone in the apartment. He can hear them whisper words of love before their lips touch in a brief kiss. And when he does, he closes his eyes imaging those words being said to him, but they never are. Neither boy has ever mentioned such a smidge of a thought of love to him—not after sex, not after blazing kisses that leave them breathless, not after moments when one, the other, or  _he_ needs words of love to get him through the day.

                               Another sip.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   And another.

                                                                                                              And another.

He throws the flask to the ground—empty—and collapses onto the concrete floor. He covers his unshaven face with a burly hand, unwanted tears pricking behind his eyelids.

All he has ever wanted in his life was companionship, and he had it. He had love and friendship in his past because of his brother Liam. But after his brother died eight years ago, Killian has only ever been alone. His parents are MIA and he doesn’t have any friends. The only people in the world that haven’t left or pretended to care, are the two boys on the other side of the door whose names match the ones engraved into his wrist.

He can hear footsteps softly trekking through the dark apartment—they’re Peter’s, he can tell. The walking patterns are scattered and light, unlike Felix’s whose are heavy and in-step.

“Killian?” He looks up his sapphire eyes locking with Peter’s groggy, emerald ones. “Why aren’t you in the bed?”

He rubs his neck picking his tired body off the cold cement. “I was just having a drink is all.”

The boy nods too sleepy to question him any further and instead grasps the man’s hand in his own intertwining his soft fingers with Killian’s rough, then tugging him to follow.

 Peter’s first to crawl between the sheets his warm, sluggish body quick to attach to Felix’s.

“Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Peter,” the man sighs resting his head against the cold, plush pillow. He watches the two boys for a short while, their pasty skin illuminating in the grey moonlight. He wished one, or both, would give him some attention, would pull their thin bodies close to him warming his own cool body during the frigid nights.

But when the nightly whispers begin again, he wishes to be deaf or he wishes those words would be spoken to him. The three little words they tell each other every day; the three little words they profess each night when they’re fast asleep.

**I    l o v e    y o u.**


	3. Rum and Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m counting on hearts like yours to keep me crazy  
> To rough me up ‘til nothing can phase me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected cuz i kept feeling like it wasn’t done it wasnt just me btw. But now it is…… Also, I made a slight Peter Pan (2003) reference in this fic; if you look hard you might can find it or if you get luck. I- I don’t know. But anyways good luck when reading….

_Felix_ and  _Peter_ , two names haunting Killian Jones like a ghost. They’re his soul mates, or they’re supposed to be.

He believes fate’s mocking him.  Fate is telling him those boys, _those two beautiful boys_ , are his forever, but reality is telling him something different. Reality says he’s not in the picture; he’s the third wheel who doesn’t belong. Reality explains, “No one is supposed to have two true loves,” and it hurts.

What Peter and Felix have is a love like he’s never seen before. The subtle touches, the loss of breath from one simple kiss, the aching need to be with one another every waking second, and the way they whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear. Killian sees it—he sees it all. He sees their love for one another growing stronger each and every day, and it hurts—it fucking hurts.

He squeezes his eyes shut hiding his sapphire jewels from the world.  He wants them to love him. He wants them to purposefully send shivers down his spine with gentle caresses; he wants them to lose their breath with barely a brush of their lips like he does. He wants all three of them to make love together instead of fucking, like he knows they do when he’s not home.

“Here’s to nothing,” Killian croaks lifting the half empty bottle of liquid love to his chapped lips. The liquid burns his trachea as it flows into his stomach. But the bottle helps him get through his life—it  _always_  has. The rum helps to clear his head of resentment and sadness, allows him to laugh when he wants to cry and allows him to grin when he’s broken. His rum is his mask; it hides all his true feelings of repent and enmity, but once the drunken mask disappears, the pain returns, and it hurts—still really hurts.

“Killian, we’re home and we got food!”

He doesn’t try to hide his drinking from them—he stopped a long time ago. So when they spot him, Felix just shakes his head casually ignoring the glass bottle in his hand, while Peter furrows his brows analyzing the scene before him. He tilts his head every now and then considering every aspect of the situation, attempting to solve the puzzle as to why he was drinking  _this time_.

Killian touches the glass rim to his bottom lip locking his eyes with Peter’s. The boy purses his lips emerald jewels narrowing at the small act of defiance. But he’s quick to forget the action when Felix tentatively tugs on his fingers gesturing to the brown paper bags resting on the tile floor.

The man takes a final swig and dismisses himself from the kitchen, unknowing of Peter’s dark eyes boring holes into his leather clad back.

Killian strides his way to the bedroom, the door slamming behind him, and a feral growl ripping his throat apart. He’s tired of the games. He’s tired of Peter and Felix. He’s tired of being ignored and treated like a pawn in this antagonizing chess match. He’s tired of feeling as if nobody gives a shit, as if nobody wants him around. He’s tired of believing he’ll die alone and unloved. He’s tired of hurting.

Killian glides his thumb over his wrist feeling the indents of the tiny, haunting words. He can trace each letter on his thumb’s rough pad—the arch of the ‘p’, the dot of the ‘i’, and the cross of the ‘x’. When put together the letters form the names of the boys he’s meant to share his heart with, and it irks him.

He did the noble thing; he split his heart evenly between the two boys, but they gave their hearts to each other leaving him with the scraps. They left him with hints emotion here and there. They left him begging for their attention, yearning for their companionship, and dying for their love.  They left him crumbling into a broken mess with dirty nails scratching fate’s writing.

He can hear the distant noises of Peter and Felix talking. He can hear them chortle, scream, and whisper. All the sounds echoing like a drum in his ears. Killian begins to shake, his throat runs dry, and his sight begins to blur.

He presses his nails harder into the tender flesh, clawing at the tiny letters. With every laugh, every word, every sound his nails press deeper breaking the skin in the process.  He rips and shreds low growls escaping his lips with each tear.

“Killian?” It’s Peter, “Killian, what are you-?” The boy pauses, his eyes speedily absorbing the incident, “Oh my god.’ He reaches out grasping a hold of each forearm and the man’s tears slowly begin to fall. Blood coats the tips of his fingers like single digit gloves; he doesn’t dare look to the wrist with the names though.

But Peter says it all. His hands shake as they go to touch his wrist. His lip quivers in the smallest way as he examines the damage done. And his eyes, his beautiful emerald jewels, are filled with sorrow, grief, and anger.

It’s the strongest series of emotion Killian has ever received from the boy, and knowing he’s the one to cause him to panic, to cause him to  _feel_  even if it’s just in this moment. It feels…

**f u c k i n g    a m a z i n g.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment I'd like to know what y'all think.


	4. There's Nothing Left to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to take a chance and give you up  
> In the morning I'll wake and make my escape ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAAUEcfbP-8))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what guys! I finally got it done! Part 4 of my Soulmate!AU! Whoop-whoop! 
> 
> Anyways, I'm sorry this took so long, but I was like completely blank on what to write and then one day inspiration came and I hope it was worth it! :)

_Felix_  and  _Peter_ , two names of people he used to know. They were his soul mates, the ones that were supposed to be his forever.

After that night when Peter found him bloody and weak on the bedroom floor, Killian was never looked at the same by either lad. Felix would glance his way every now and then, but overall he wouldn’t say or do much. Peter at least attempted to keep something between them. He talked to Killian, not as personal or long as before, but he did none the less. He wouldn’t rough house or show his claws in bed, neither would. It was as if they were scared of hurting him, breaking him further than he did that night; but if only they knew. If only they knew that the things they believed were right  ~~helpful~~  and safe were cutting him deeper than the white of his nails did.

It was two weeks in he finally gained enough resolve to leave. He had packed his bags at two in the morning with enough necessities for a few days and money for a bus ticket or hotel stay. Though, when the time came to clutch the chilling brass knob in his trembling hands to open the door, he couldn't. His mind kept racing over and over of his two lovers so close, but still so far away.

In truth, Killian wanted to stay unlike before. He wanted to fall onto the bed and hold Peter and Felix as close to his body as he possibly could. He wanted to sob into their chests begging for forgiveness for the sins he committed. He wanted to apologize for mangling their names on his wrist to the point of unrecognizable and doubting that they loved him for a second. He just wanted the three of them to be together and happy, but the red string that tied their pinkies together marking them for eternity accomplished the unthinkable; it shredded and frayed until one single strand of scarlet thread was the only thing keeping them attached.

He knew he couldn’t stay though, not in this cramped apartment with two figures he loved way further than to the moon and back pushing him away. He had to depart, get away from this building, away from this town, away from them. So with that thought burning in his mind he yanked the door open and left with no echoes of footsteps in his wake just the subtle click of a door latch then the quiet jingle of keys.

Killian’s resolve crumbled as if each step down was a canon bashing into his walls of his remained sanity, until he almost reached the last one and collapsed to the floor with a rough thud. His heart pounded in his ears, screeching for him to return to the boys; but his brain was louder than the blood pumping muscle. It shouted in is head to  ~~go~~  run, break away from the torment of being surrounded by the ones you love just to see them love someone else (each other) more than you. The sight was a brand of torture, one fate designed with wicked hands and nimble fingers just to trip and watch him fall—and it was working.

The collaborative mess of heart and mind proceeded to holler in his ears like cymbals clashing together, resonating against his ear drums before evolving into pure, incoherent white noise soon broken by a companion joining his side.

“You didn’t make it as far as I expected, Killian. I predicted you’d make it at least out the door; Felix said the end of the hall, so I guess we were both wrong right? A first for me might I add.” It didn’t take a genius to know who the speaker was much like it didn’t take Killian looking at him to see wicked fire in his green eyes and a smirk twisted on his lips.

“Is this just one of your pathetic games, Peter?”

“It was always a game, Killian, since day one. I just never expected you to suck so badly at it,” he laughed, tossing his head back echoing the noises through the stairwell; but Killian was not amused much to the boy's disappointment.

"Why are you leaving, anyways?"

"I don't- I can't- I just need somewhere to go—to be. I want to be wanted and you both may say you care, but it doesn’t feel as if you really do,” he explained raking his long fingers through his hair.

“You’re being ridiculous. Me and Felix, actually I can’t speak for Felix seeing as I’m not him, but I care for you. I’d prefer you to stay here with us—me,” his voice was soft, tender in a way Killian had never heard before, but his sly, taunting smile still danced on his lips, and he wondered if the boy meant what he said.

“Stop messing around, boy; I’m trying to be serious here and you’re just playing more of your low, childish games!” He didn’t mean to shout, yet he did, especially when the boy’s lips dropped into a frown.

“Why does everything I do with you have to be a game?”

“Because that’s your damn nature. You tease and you play people like they’re just pawns on a chess board; for instance, me. I’m supposed to be that second knight in shining armor by your side, but you treat me as one of your pathetic pawns. You come to me and act as if you care what I say, but you don’t. You do me in the bedroom as if it actually was more than reckless fucking. You hug and kiss me like there’s a possibility you love me, but you don’t and neither does Felix!” Killian exclaimed, his chest heaving for breath and body rattling to stand up so his stature might be taller than Peter to appear more threatening, dominate, in charge.

The boy scoffed, exasperated, “Is that really what this is about? You don’t think we love you?” He crossed his long, lithe arms across his chest and leaned back into the hall wall.

“You sure as hell ‘ve never said it!” His blood was rushing through his veins and arteries at increasing speeds, his heart pounded like an 808 drum, he felt high; it was like this surge of emotions that made him want to fight for himself—stand up for how he felt he was treated, not apologize and fall back into the same routine he yearned to escape from like before.

“Our names are signed into your skin; we’re all three supposed to be together so we shouldn’t have to tell you—you should know!”

The rapid pace of Killian’s heart violently twitched and paced with Peter’s words. It wasn’t as if he never thought of the possibility that that was the exact reason neither boy would tell him of their love; he had imagined that was it for a few months in the extent of their relationship, but the assumption never made sense in his mind.  _Why would they have to tell one another all the time ‘I love you’ but never him if they had the same engravings?_  That was what disproved the theory.

“That doesn’t keep you and Felix from telling each other every two minutes!”

“We’ve known each other for years, you dumbass! We were happy together as just us; we didn’t need another person added to our duo. We were perfectly fine without you in our lives and we’d go back to that time if we could!”

Killian’s whole frame went rigid, tensing tightly where he stood. He felt like he’d been slapped in the face; he could barely fathom the exact meaning of Peter’s words or the truth that he had said them. The whole jumbled mess was flying circles in his mind as his brain attempted to pull the pieces together, build the whole bigger picture that he had been ignorant to the entire time. It was as if all the signs that they never ever wanted him were there, but he just couldn’t see them in his mind. He knew they had their moments of neglect toward him, he just never saw it as on purpose. He supposed their actions were purely accidental seeing as they never had to care for another before—it was always just them.

Maybe, it was meant to be just them in the end though. Maybe, Killian was a mistake; maybe, he was destined to be one of those few souls on Earth that was born without any names on his skin, but fate had forgot to erase the letters that were written leaving him hopeful of a happy ending just to be crushed into epitome by cold, hard reality. Or maybe, just maybe, it was his destiny to meet those two and fall in love; it just happened to be the wrong time when they met and that’s what fucked him up.

“Fuck you,” he murmured grasping hold of his suitcase and making his way down the final stairs.

He could hear Peter’s light steps and foggy shouts of ‘Wait’, ‘I didn’t mean it’, and ‘Don’t go’’s echoing close behind him, but he kept moving. He continued walking and only looked back once when he reached the door. The boy was only a few feet from him and the regret that glazed over his face tempted him to go to him, but he couldn’t—he had to go like he planned. Find new love, rewrite his fate, or maybe allow fate to reset itself just to find himself back in their arms, this time with them wanting him too, loving him too.

“Goodbye,” and he walked away. The red string on his and Peter’s little fingers stretched longer and longer with every stride, until the door to the apartment complex shut snapping the thread in the process. Then for the first time in his life Killian could finally breathe. He was his own person again.

                                                                                 **H e   w a s   f r e e .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, I'm thinking of having this as like the final part, but still not 100% sure, so if you think there should be more just shoot me a message or comment saying so, or even an ask on tumblr @[FuckYeahCaptainPan](http://fuckyeahcaptainpan.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> As always though, please leave a comment on what of what you think or maybe any ideas you have for future parts if I decide to continues it; and who knows your ideas might inspire me to make new parts.
> 
> Thank you for reading, please comment. :)


	5. A note to my readers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note to the readers.

This is a notice to all my readers:

When I first began this fic, it was a short, mindless thing I had no plans of ever continuing; then my ask box on tumblr (where it was originally posted) blew up with requests for another part, so I did that and out and about came a second and third and even fourth part. I had originally planned on part four to be the final installment, because it ended with a resolution to the climax in my opinion. But then I got repeated asks for it not the end there and I thought  _Okay, I'll write part five and it'll be an_ _epilogue_ , so that's what I did.

You see, though, part five got a little strange; I couldn't figure out a way to end it properly and have it make sense. So, I spoke to my lovely beta about it and allowed her to run through it, and we discussed how it should go. In the end we both came up with the conclusion that part five should not be a thing, due to it stretching so from the original plot and a complete flip in tone.

Instead, she prompted me to think  _sequel_ , and I did. We weighed the pros and cons and finalized that indeed part four  **will be the final installment of _Fate's_** ** _Curse_**. (or Counting on Heart or Love Song Requiem, which ever). But not to fear,  **there will be a sequel**. I hope you guys don't mind this; it just made more sense overall.

 ~~Official title is yet to be configured~~.

Sincerely,

[FuckYeahCaptainPan](FuckYeahCaptainPan.tumblr.com)

P.S. Is anyone excited? I'm just curious?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay Tuned ('cuz it might take a while)


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